


never dreamed home would end up where i don't belong

by thesaddestboner



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Goodbyes, Not Beta Read, Trade Deadline, abuse of the word 'bro', sad trade feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: It never gets easier.





	never dreamed home would end up where i don't belong

**Author's Note:**

> This is dumb and short and sad.
> 
> Maudlin title from "I'm Movin' On," by Rascal Flatts.
> 
>  **ETA:** I'm not going to delete this but just know that J.D. Martinez has been cancelled and I will no longer produce any J.D. Martinez content. 
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

It never gets easier. 

He’s never been traded before, but he’s been released. He’s been discarded like a day old newspaper. He’s been dumped by his girlfriend. He’s been demoted, dinged up, dropped like a hot potato. He’s had setback after setback, and he’s taken them hard—taken them to heart—every damn time. 

J.D.’s always gotten too attached. To people, places, things. Friends. Teammates. 

Now he’s gotta start over in a new place. He doesn’t know anyone on the Diamondbacks. He doesn’t have an Al Avila who’s been like a second dad to him since he was a kid. He doesn’t have an Alex who’s been like an adopted brother. 

J.D. sighs and glances down at his phone. It’s been vibrating in his hand all day but, for the most part, he’s been ignoring the notifications. He fired off texts to his parents and his sisters, and shut everything else out. J.D.’s been in a fog all afternoon, ever since Al and Brad pulled him aside to tell him a trade was in the works, that it’d probably get done quick.

It’d felt like having a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, or a bucket of wasps. Both at the same time. His chest is tight and his eyes itch. 

He’s going to a contender, but it still hurts. Leaving this all behind. It hurts. 

A hand lands on his back, squeezes his shoulder, and J.D. turns around.

“Hey, man. Go hit some fucking bombs in the desert, alright?” Nick grins at him, but it’s not a normal Nick Castellanos grin. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

J.D.’s heart twinges painfully, though he tries his best to mirror NIck’s shadow of a smile on his own face. Nick’s been like a little brother to him since he got to Detroit, kinda pesty, always underfoot. He’s struck, suddenly, by how much he’s gonna miss Nick.

“Hey, buddy, c’mere.” J.D. pulls Nick against his chest in a big bear hug before Nick can respond. He feels Nick’s hands pat awkwardly at his back, like he doesn’t quite know where to put them.

“You gettin’ soft on me, Julio?” Nick asks, muffled, his faced squished uncomfortably into J.D.’s shoulder.

J.D. pats him on the back and pushes him away. “Nah, man. You know me.”

Nick laughs and clips J.D. on the shoulder with his fist. He’s already got black athletic tape wrapped around his wrist and the sight of it makes J.D.’s heart ache some. 

“Yeah, bro,” Nick says, dropping his hand. “I do.”

J.D. sighs and ducks his head, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I gotta go, man. I’ll see you around,” he says, even though he knows he probably won’t. Not for a while.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Nick touches his shoulder again and J.D. lifts his head. 

“You—you’re my family, man. All of you,” J.D. says, his voice just starting to splinter like ice before he reins it in, gets his emotions under control. “I never told you, but you’re like a little bro to me, man. It was always me and my sisters growing up, and I always wanted a brother.”

Nick manages a sad little smile, the corners wilting. “You too, man.” Nick grabs hold of his hand and squeezes.

Then his cheeks redden and he pulls his hand back and wipes it on the front of his batting practice jersey, like he’s ashamed at this sudden display of emotion and just wants to wipe it off.

J.D. decides to be kind to him.

“See you,” he says, tucking his phone in his pocket.

“Yeah,” Nick says softly. “Go win a ring, dude.”

J.D. gives Nick a tip of the cap and heads off to the clubhouse to say the rest of his goodbyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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